Dr House and the Crazy Cat Lady
by sparrowlove
Summary: One of Dr. House's more bizarre patients... sorry I can't give you anything better than that.


June 1, 2005

Dear Jess,

Happy belated birthday. Well, right now it's still your birthday, but by the time you read this, it won't be. For you: my first attempt at the dreaded Fan Fiction. Though it can't compare with "The Case of the Squeeing Fangirl", I hope you enjoy it. Here we go…

Disclaimer: I don't own House or any of its characters. If I did, I would give Dr. House to Jess. But I don't. Sorry Jess.

Also, I don't own the Rolling Stones or any of their songs. I wish I did, but I don't

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**Dr. House and the Crazy Cat Lady**

"Dr. Dr. Please would you help me?"

"I can't," House replied angrily. "You're an old lady. You should know how important it is to not miss your soap, and 'General Hospital' starts in 4 minutes… Wait, what the Hell's in your purse?" A large tail had just flopped out of the old woman's pocketbook. It hung limply as House stepped back in revulsion.

He tripped over his cane, muttered a curse not so under his breath, and reached for his Vicoden. He took two and began to put them away, but looked at the cat that had just been pulled out of the bag, and held on to the bottle.

"Look," he said, adding his snarkiest look. "This is a sterile, _clean_ environment. Get that mangy thing out of here."

"Hey," the lady answered flirtatiously. "You're kinda cute when you're angry."

Dr. House popped another painkiller. "One, this is not angry, this is disgusted. Two, the only people in this building that can hit on me are Dr. Cuddy, because she wears low-cut shirts, and Dr. Chase, because he's very pretty."

" I just want you to help me."

"You can't always get what you want," House sang in falsetto.

Just then, Dr. Cuddy walked past, wearing (you guessed it), a low-cut shirt. House pointed to her chest.

"You see what I mean?" he asked the shocked patient.

"House," Cuddy reprimanded. "Stop harassing her and start working."

House took another Vicoden, and then led the patient to his office. "So," he said. "Does it," he gestured at the cat. "Have rabies? Is that why you brought it? It must have something to do with your sickness, because it sure doesn't say Gregory House, Veterinary M.D. on my license."

Dr. Cameron walked in and saw the cat. "Ooh, cute kitty," she said. She reached to pet it and then jumped back. "Ooh, dead kitty." She left. She served her purpose in this story.

"I'm not a coroner either," House commented. "What do you want from me?"

"See if he died from food poisoning," the lady answered.

"What part of 'I'm not a coroner…"

"I ate the same food as Sammy here did," the woman interrupted. "If he had food poisoning, I might have it too."

"Why were you eating the same food as your cat?" House asked.

"Because he doesn't like what the other cats eat."

House reached for his pills, decided he was to close to ODing, and began tapping his cane on the floor. When the patient glared at him, he tapped harder, adding his good foot and free hand to the rhythm. Then he spoke. "What other cats, and what do they eat?" Though he appeared as bored as ever, he figured that this story might be interesting enough to partially make up for his missing General Hospital. Besides, he was taping it at home.

"Well," the old woman began. "Lisa and Susie eat hamburgers. Larry, Bob, Greg" House groaned when he heard that he shared a name with a cat. "and William only eat fish that has been grilled, but Chris, Jess, and Richard like fried fish, and Dan likes his fish raw. Lizzy and…"

"Wait," House butts in. "How many cats do you have?"

"I don't really know, 42 or 43 I guess."

"That's disgusting. No wonder you smell," House mumbled.

"Just tell me," the woman pleaded. "if I'm going to die."

"Of course you're going to die," House said to the lady, who got a terrified look on her face at the words. "Everyone dies. Except me," he reflected. "I just keep living and being subjected to nimrods like you. Maybe I'm being punished. But no, you don't have food poisoning… or maybe you do, but that's not what killed your cat. Where did you find it?"

"I found _him_ in the street."

House rolled his eyes and risked another Vicoden. "Well, obviously. _It _was hit by a car. Look at its tail and its legs. They're crushed; they're just hanging there. Now get it out of my sight."

As the patient walked out of House's office, House muttered "Crazy old lady."

As the patient walked out of House's office, she muttered "Crazy old man."

The End


End file.
